


A Captain and An Engineer Walk Into A Bar

by nugget_basket



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, I'm Bad At Titles, Mostly Fluff, Reader-Insert, Romantic Comedy, Smut, Some Plot, maybe some shmecks later, surprisingly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-29 01:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11430789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nugget_basket/pseuds/nugget_basket
Summary: You've been assigned to Rogue One as their "technical specialist". You can't fight, and you barely know how to use a gun despite being able to design and develop security systems and defences. To add to that, you're a bit clumsy and over-enthusiastic if anything.Your crush on Cassian is hopeless...but you'll be damned if that's ever stopped you.





	1. The Laserbrain

**Author's Note:**

> I am such trash for Cassian. God help me

You’re not the typical rebel fighter.

That’s probably because you’re not a fighter at all…you’re still fumbling with a blaster at times and K2 finds every opportunity to make jokes about your fighting abilities (or lack thereof) and you’re not sure if it makes it better or worse that that’s probably the best part of that damn hunk of metal’s day. You’re just a poor old electrical fixer-upper who’s out of a job and in need of a cause to fight for. After all, these days there is no shortage of a side to be on.

Your position in the rebel alliance is still undecided. Mon Mothma finds you useful because you like to tinker – you’d managed to develop (with some assistance from Bodhi, who for an Imperial pilot, knew rather a lot about how his vessel worked) a small personal device that would deploy a mostly impermeable force field when activated. It could only stay up for about 10 minutes at a time, but you had high hopes. After the Battle of Scarif, Bodhi confided to you, he wanted to concentrate on engineering anything to give them a fighting chance – having seen the destructive capability of the Death Star (an appropriate moniker, you felt).

The base at Yavin IV was in what one might call a state of shock. You yourself had not seen any use in joining the cause till 2 months prior, barely 2 weeks before Scarif, but then the weapons manufacturer you’d worked for had gone bust – some deal with the Empire had fallen through and with the newfound knowledge, you felt the best way to deal with the situation was to up and join their opponents.

And so here you are, flat on your back underneath the great Captain Andor’s not so great ship, trying to perform upgrades while K2 whined somewhere to your right. Mothma had given the modus operandi of the operation a great deal of thought after Scarif and given the amount of technical prowess Bodhi had displayed, that each team should have a Bodhi. And somehow, even though Rogue One already _had_ a Bodhi, your supervisor recommended you be assigned to them – your productive collaboration with Bodhi might have been a factor in that decision, but some part of you suspected he wanted to be done with your incessant questions and ideas.

“Seriously, K2, if you don’t shut that damn trap of yours, I’ll send you on up to that great junkyard in the sky.”

“I’m an Imperial droid. I am perfectly capable of giving you sound advice, and you should consider taking it.”

“It’s too hot for this.”

“I don’t feel heat, I have a cooling system.”

This is your life now.

Great.

You sigh heavily and continue working, trying to tune out the sounds of the world outside your bubble. You love machines, and this is, at least, something you enjoy. The waves of heat and pressing humidity become little more than a mild nuisance as you reconnect wires and reassemble parts.

“Hey, could you hand me a socket wrench?” You call out, unwilling to roll out from underneath the exposed wiring to locate the tool.

“This one?” The voice is mildly accented in a pleasant lilt and the hand that proffers the wrench is definitely not metallic and in fact very human and it suddenly occurs to you that this must be _the_ Captain Andor – you’ve never met him, but boy, oh boy, have you heard of this man, and you scramble to greet him or salute or something and promptly slam your head against the underside of the ship. Cross-eyed with pain and mortification, you pull yourself out and hurriedly attempt to stumble to your feet, apologising profusely, but in your efforts, somehow trip on thin air and land squarely on your bottom.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I-“ you pause when you notice that Cassian Andor is literally purple from contained mirth, his hand pressed to his mouth, eyes crinkled.

Maker, you are _such_ a laserbrain.

“You can laugh, it’s okay.” You assure him, smiling sheepishly.

Cassian positively explodes, wisps of dark hair flopping forward, arms crossed over his stomach. He laughs and laughs and all you can really do is sit there waiting for him to regain his composure so that you can properly introduce yourself to him.

Finally, he gasps, “I really am so sorry L/N, it’s just the look on your face…” he coughs, and seems to get ahold of himself, reaching a sympathetic hand out to you. You take it and let him haul you to your feet.

“Are you alright?” He asks, the picture of complete sincerity. You have to admit you’re surprised – you had been expecting someone large and intimidating, and though Cassian was definitely serious enough and had the reputation for it, you felt he seemed a bit more approachable than you had previously given him credit for.

“I’m okay.” You wave him off. “Happens all the time.”

“This is not the usual way we welcome new recruits, I must say. You are the new electrical engineer assigned to us, yes?” His face morphs from friendly concern to all business.

“I wouldn’t really call myself an electrical engineer, but sure.”

“It’s certainly unprecedented, for someone so new to be entrusted with a duty so important.”

Your spine stiffens and you stare him down. “I’m good at what I do. And I have information on the weaponry and defence systems used by the Empire. After all, I designed them.”

He seems to respect you for that and backs off. “We are glad to have you on our team. There is another reason why I’m here – Rogue One has been assigned to an intelligence mission at Dantooine, an Imperial outpost.”

“What’s the mission?”

“Unfortunately, the details are on a need to know basis only.” He explains, “you just need to help us get in. The place is on lockdown, and we’ll need your specific expertise to get us in the main compound.”

“Uh, I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“The team is counting on you, L/N.” He says quietly, and the resulting anxiety goes straight to your stomach, contracting it painfully.

“Yeah,” you give him a weak nod. “I gotcha.”

 

Being on a mission with the rest of the team is equal parts terrifying and surreal. You watch Baze and Chirrut murmur to themselves, side by side as always, and their solidity is mildly comforting, though it does very little to quell the mass of nerves in the pit of your gut. Chirrut abruptly looks up and makes direct eye contact with you, a strange thing for a blind man to be able to do, but his smile is kindly. “Do not fret. Worry is simply a means to no end.”

“I want to say I get that, but I’m not really specifically trained to handle dangerous situations.” You mumble, rubbing the back of your neck.

Cassian shoots you an indiscernible look. “You won’t have to handle dangerous situations. We will make sure of that.”

You nod at him and look down, hoping he doesn’t see the redness creeping up your neck and ears, when K2 supplies, “The probability of you coming out alive is high F/N L/N, considering, of course, that you will likely not be leaving the ship.” Bodhi, whom you thought was your friend, your _only friend_ , laughs, the damn traitor.

Jyn rolls her eyes and squeezes your shoulder. “You’ll be alright F/N. It’s a simple recon mission, we’ll be in and out in a flash.”

 

They were in fact not ‘in and out in a flash’. It took rather a long time but you were fairly occupied with remotely disabling security measures and strategically locking and unlocking doors. You’d had to track their locations and respond directly in real time to issues they were facing. That alone had not been easy but the constant threat of the ship being discovered had not helped.

By the time they climb back into the ship, you are mentally drained and cannot conceive of the idea of doing this every day. But then Cassian comes up to you, and places a calming hand on your back, and all of a sudden everything feels much better. You can’t help but fall asleep on the ride back to base, your head lolling back, muttering about bantha steak stew, much to amusement of your fellow passengers.

Later, in the privacy of your bunk, you stretch out on your tiny, thin mattress and inspect the plans for the cloaking device Bodhi was talking about. The man himself sat cross legged on the floor, hunched over the blueprint, making notes.

“Hey.” You let your body hang over the side of the bed and looked at him, your hair brushing the floor.

His eyes darted to you momentarily. “Huh?”

“What’s Captain Andor like?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you search for the right words, “what’s his deal?”

Bodhi shrugs, “he’s a captain. From what I gather, after Scarif, he’s a lot more empathtic, but he’s been embroiled in the Rebellion nearly his whole life, so…”

“So he’s a bit…taciturn.” You suggest.

“Right.”

“Huh.” So Cassian Andor had never really known anything other than the rebellion. You ponder briefly the life he must’ve led. Never knowing the warmth and familiarity of a family. It sounded kind of empty to you. No wonder he was always so stern – he didn’t know how to _not_ have the rebellion on his mind. After all, you may be alone now, but you grew up in a loving family – who also happened to be Imperial sympathisers but you didn’t really talk about that.

Until now.

It wasn’t too late to get the famed Captain Andor to have a little bit of fun, and you were going to be the idiot who took on the challenge. Humming, you returned your attention to the blueprints lying on your lap, missing Bodhi’s narrowed gaze – he just knew you were plotting.


	2. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably won't be a long fic, and I'm playing around with the universe very loosely so if there are inaccuracies, please forgive me.

The next evening, Cassian had been caught up in training new recruits. News of the Imperial’s attacks on Jedha and Scarif had spread and more young people were clamouring to join the Rebel Alliance. Ever since Leia Organa herself had received the plans to the Death Star, that seed of hope had infected the galaxy, and they’re starting to reap the benefits. You had been in meetings all day, brainstorming security and defence measures, updating Mothma and Draven – the list goes on and on. You drag yourself out of the meeting room and head to the dining hall with Bodhi.

“What’s the whole plan again?”

“I’m going to lure him out,” you begin, “and then take him places.”

Bodhi starts to laugh. “What kind of places exactly? There’s nothing around here.”

You stick your tongue out at him childishly. “That’s what you think. I bet he hasn’t seen the view from the top of the temple ruins yet.”

“Is that it?”

“Well…”

Bodhi chuckles. “I think you underestimate the Captain.”

“We’ll see.”

Finishing up with dinner, Bodhi walks you to Andor’s private quarters before bolting, saying he doesn’t want to be suspended along with you. Confident in your foolproof scheme, you knock on the Captain’s door. It takes him a minute, but when he opens the door, you’re greeted with a lean, puzzled looking man in a loose fitting cotton top over slacks.

“Wow, Captain,” you gape without thinking, “you sure clean up real nice.”

Cassian’s eyes narrow to pinpricks. “Can I help you with something?”

Your previous resolve dissipates like smoke in the wind and you gulp, “well, the thing is…”

You had not thought this through.

“It’s Bodhi!” You’re struck with a fresh wave of inspiration.

“Bodhi?”

“He’s in a fight! At the temple ruins!”

“You mean the hangar?”

“Yes! Um, somebody called you a… a buckethead and he tried to beat them up and uh…”

Cassian’s face shifted from concern to disbelief. “Y/N, I had no idea anyone could be this horrendous a liar.”

You exhale and scratch your nose. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s the real reason behind all this?” Cassian crosses his arms over his shirt, and you can’t help but be transfixed by the lean torso beneath the thin fabric.

“I just thought you could use some fun.” You blurt, and his answering glare tells you everything you needed to know about what he thought of that answer.

You start backing away. “My bad, look I meant well, I didn’t mean to make you angry…”

“No.” He reaches behind the door and you cringe slightly, fearing the worst, before realising it’s just his jacket. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

“You wanted to go to the temple ruins right? Come on then.”

“Uh…” you pause, trying to gauge his reaction.

He rolls his eyes and grabs your arm, tugging you along behind him.

 

How did you end up like this? And how did you think this was a good idea? You’re panting in the still, damp air, trying not to lose your footing. You can see the wicked smile on Cassian’s face, as if he knew exactly what was going to happen. You are absolutely hopeless with this climbing shit, and he’s loping from one stone brick to the other like some kind of primordial ape. You pause for a second to gasp for air, clinging to the stone and trying not to look down at the ground, now a considerable distance away. Sweat forms in uncomfortable beads on your neck and forehead, but you persist, refusing to give in to him.

Laughing, Cassian reaches a hand out to you, the way he had on your first meeting and you grasp it gratefully. Your foot slips suddenly on the moss and your legs give out beneath you. Your breath catches in your throat for a split second, but then Cassian’s arm is hooked tight around your waist and you’re flush against him. You don’t really register this at first, till your feet find solid ground again, but he hasn’t let you go and that familiar warmth is starting to travel to your cheeks. You find the courage to meet his eyes and they gleam with an unusual light.

“You should really be more careful,” he says, and releases you unceremoniously.

Grumbling, you haul yourself upwards, and find you’ve reached the topmost platform of the ruins. You check your watch, finding it’s been two hours since you first started out from the main section of the base. The conical top of the temple looms above you, and you stretch out on the cool stone floor to stare up at the iridescent skies.

“Great view up here, huh?” You say, lamely, and Cassian flops down next to you with a sigh.

“You’ve never been up here before have you?”

Leave it to Cassian to see through your false bravado. “I’ve heard a lot about it, so I figured it would be nice.” You tell him, defensive.

His expression, ordinarily neutral, fades into something softer, the light of numerous distant stars and the muted glow of your lamp throwing shadows on his face. He looks decades older in that instant, and your heart responds to the crescents under his eyelids and his sleek hair, tucked behind his ear.

Cassian shakes his head slightly with a huffed laugh. “L/N, you don’t really belong here, do you?” He says it like a statement, more than a question, but the truth of it hurts – more than you care to admit.

“Not really.” You sit up, drawing your knees to your chin and focusing your gaze on a cluster of stars to the north. “I guess you guys with your guns and um…fighting and stuff, you’re all sort of in the same boat. I’m not really one of you, am I?”

You refuse to look at him, refuse to give yourself away.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Cassian says, softly. He scoots closer and lets his hand rest on your forearm tentatively. “Forgive me. I just meant, well, you’re not like us. We were…forced into the cause, forced to adopt it as our very reason for life and purpose. You chose this. I suppose,” he squeezes lightly, “I’m a little envious.”

Reassured, you lift your head to gaze at his dark eyes, trying almost to peer into his soul. “You’re right, in a sense. I did choose this. I didn’t go through any of the things you did. In fact, I was pretty sheltered growing up. My family were Imperial sympathisers but they gave me a good home, support, nourishment. When I went to Coruscant for my apprenticeship, they were living in Bespin, and uh, they got killed by troopers. For no reason other than just being there at the wrong time.”

Cassian’s hand stays on your arm and in a bold move, you take his hand in yours, and continue.

“After that, I swore I wouldn’t help the Empire, but then I found out we’d been manufacturing weapons for the people who killed my parents and my brother. I had to assuage my conscience so I came here.” Your voice stays level. You had mourned them a long time ago, and while the aching emptiness of their loss remained, the stabbing fresh pain had long since dulled.

You both sit in silence, hand in hand, eyes fixed on the sky.

Cassian speaks first, “I was the perfect rebel soldier. I did everything for the Rebel Alliance – it was the only thing I’d ever known. I don’t remember my family, nor do I remember a life before all this fighting. I’ve lost more comrades than I dare to think about.”

You shuffle closer, and wait.

“At Scarif, everything changed. I was right there, facing down sure death, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t understand why I had done everything I had, for the cause. I mean, yes, it was for freedom and for the resistance and yet, why me?” He turns to you, and his fingers grow taut around yours. “I think that was the point where I separated from just being a machine built to kill and destroy.”

No more is said that evening, but when he pulls you to your feet to make your way back down, your hand stays linked with his until you reach the floodlights of the base.

 


	3. The Hologram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ignoring the danger of the empire because I want fluff, shhhh
> 
> also I don't know anything about technology, if that wasn't clear.

~~~~

Whatever it was that you shared with Cassian that night plays in your mind like a broken record every time you so much as get some time alone. Blueprints have been piling up in your room for days, but you haven’t gotten much accomplished at all. Finally, a week later, during which you’ve steadfastly avoided contact with Cassian in order to keep from exacerbating the situation, you sit at your desk and try to actually get some work done.

Having reapplied your focus, time seems to become fluid and at some point you notice that the skies outside your tiny window have darkened considerably. Leaning back, you yawn and stretch out in your chair, wondering if the dining hall will have anything left to eat. There’s a quiet knock at your door, and you force yourself to your feet, opening it to find Cassian standing outside.

“Mission brief?” you ask, dreading the likelihood of Dantooine all over again, and Cassian shakes his head.

He coughs briefly and averts his gaze. “No, I’m not here in a professional capacity.”

“Oh. Did you need something?”

“Did you have anything planned tonight? I wanted to thank you for forcing me to go outside last week. It’s been a while since I did anything like that.” He straightens and gives you a half smile. Your heart promptly turns into a pile of goo.

“I don’t really have anything planned and I’d like to do something but I can’t right now.” You tell him, apologetically. “I haven’t had anything to eat all day and…”

Your stomach offers up proof with a loud and emphatic rumble.

Cassian looks down and then up at you again and you can tell he’s fighting the urge to laugh. You scream at your insides internally – at this rate, there is no way he could ever find you attractive. “You’re not going to find anything at the dining hall at this time, you know.” He smirks.

You groan and wrap your arms around yourself. “I’m doomed to die of starvation.”

He guides you out into the corridor and closes your door behind you. “That would be a real shame.”

Cassian’s room is only slightly larger than yours, but he has his own shower and that makes you so jealous. It also makes you think about how he might look after a shower: it takes considerable effort to drag your mind away from that thought. The place is sparsely furnished but neat, a far cry from the utter dump that your room has become.

He pulled out a pack of dried salamander sticks from his closet and a bag of what looked like candy.

“I didn’t really take you for someone with a sweet tooth.” You remark, watching him pop one into his mouth.

“These are good.” He shrugs and holds the bag out for me to take one. “They’re called Favourites of the Force, made by rebels in secret.”

“Why do they have to be secretive about candy?” Your eyes widen. “Especially about candy _this good_?”

Cassian just laughs, the creases in his forehead disappearing for a second, and you can’t help but watch him fondly.

“Tell me a secret.” You blurt, chewing on a salamander stick. You’re leaning against the wall, legs stretched out, and Cassian sits on his desk chair looking through the bag of candy for his favourite flavour.

“A secret?”

“And it has to be your secret. Not a government one, I don’t care about those.”

“My middle name is Jeron.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

You try and hide the growing smile on your face by rubbing at your nose.

“Your turn.” Cassian slips off his chair and joins you on the floor. His legs are much longer than yours and you can smell the subtle scent of soap on his skin. You still instinctively, holding in your breath. As if all feeling has migrated to your side, the heat of his shoulder and side against your own feels like an inferno. It seems to cause a sudden case of amnesia because you’ve all but forgotten how to speak.

“Uh…huh?”

“A secret.” Cassian glances at you. “Tell me one.”

“You’re a lot shorter than I expected.” It comes out without you really thinking about it and the second it registers, you clap your hands to your mouth and issue a muffled apology. Cassian just looks shocked for a moment and then shakes his head, a smile playing around his mouth.

“You are…not at all what _I_ expected.”

You nudge him in the ribs with your elbow and wink. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

It suddenly occurs to you that Cassian Andor is willing to let you get away with just about anything.

 

The next month passes like a dream, and a good one at that. There are missions yes, sometimes in dangerous territory, but your faith in Cassian as your captain is unwavering. Most nights, you can be found exchanging snacks and candy with Cassian, Bodhi and Jyn. Jyn, you’ve found, has a wicked sense of humour and loads of great stories. You sometimes join Chirrut and Baze on their quiet walks through the jungles. It’s ironic, to both of them, that you trip on weeds and roots more than the blind man does.

Despite your differences, you’ve found that bonding with them has been easier than you thought it would be. The sky is tinged red with dusk as you pack your equipment for the foray into Eriadu. While the area itself was neutral at this point, Cassian had requested that you join him and K2 – it was a simple intelligence mission and he’d told you that he felt it would do you good to be out in the field and gain a little confidence. The brief was simple: Someone would be meeting you with some information on the Empire’s activities, and in return you would be assisting him with fixing some stolen “tech” for his personal use. It was a simple trade, and Eriadu, with its thriving black market, was the perfect place to do so uninterrupted.

“Must you fall asleep on every mission, L/N?” K2SO asks flippantly, “We’re not quite in the mood to hear about your bantha steak today.”

“Leave F/N be, K.” Cassian interrupts. “And make sure you have her back. She’s just a rookie.”

“If you say so Cassian.” The droid sighs heavily and returns his attention to the control panel.

“Bantha steak?” You mumble, confused.

“This will be the first time you’re actually leaving the ship.” Cassian says, in a low voice. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Give me a break Cassie.” Your hand snaps up to give him an enthusiastic thumbs-up but that only results in your blaster clattering to the floor.

“Try not to shoot anyone before we’ve landed, L/N, won’t you?” K2 calls from the cockpit. You shoot an accusing look at the fallen blaster and then look up to catch Cassian’s lovely brown eyes with your own.

“Trust me Jerry.” You grin and lean into him briefly. His exasperation at the ridiculous nickname is evident, so you make sure to salute and call him Captain before getting off the ship. It’s a bit of a walk into the actual marketplace, and then you go through a hidden door and down the stairs into a pub of sorts. It looks like the kind of bar you used to sneak into as an adolescent, and it reeks of stale alcohol.

Cassian seems to know who it is you two are looking for and walks right up to the guy. He’s fairly inconspicuous, clad in the local garb, nursing a mug of something that smells like jet fuel. You can’t help but wrinkle your nose a little and it grabs the man’s attention.

“This the engineer?” he rasps, eyes sliding over you, then flitting to Cassian. He produces a piece of paper from within the depths of his jacket and holds it out. “Trade you this for a minute alone with the girl.”

“Woah, hey, I’m not a prostitute.” You argue, but the man gives you an irritated glare.

“You think I don’t know that?” He sniffs, contemptuously.

“You can say whatever you need to say in front of me. She goes nowhere without me.” Cassian moves to angle himself between you and the strange man sitting on the stool, adopting a protective stance.

“Well,” The stranger withdraws the folded sheet petulantly. “I guess you won’t be needing this then.”

You watch Cassian’s back tense and open your mouth to protest, but he snarls, “It would be a shame if you were to be exposed to the Empire as a dirty spy.”

“Damn,” the guy looks hurt, “that’s kind of a harsh card to play, Andor, don’t you think?”

“No names!” Cassian hisses, but he seems to steady.

“Fine, fine.” The man stands and motions to you both to follow. “In here.”

He leads you to a heavy curtain and pulls it aside to reveal a small door, half your height. You follow Cassian through, trying to convince yourself that you’re not staring at his butt and there’s no other place to look, when the guy starts talking again.

“This is what I need you to…repurpose…for me.” His eyes are trained on the floor and some part of you realises he’s embarrassed.

“It’s a holographic projector.” You examine the device he hands to you, and note that it’s has the Empire’s seal on the bottom.

“Yeah.”

“And, you want me to do, what, exactly?” You question, glancing over to Cassian who looks equally perplexed.

The man’s voice lowers a couple of decibels so that only you could hear him. “There’s something in it that doesn’t let me watch certain…sensitive videos, and I want you to fix that.”

“Sensitive videos?” …Oh. You unscrew the latch and pop it open to reveal the circuitry. “If these are regular issue holo projectors, it’s just a matter of tweaking the chip to make it recognise most discs rather than just Empire holograms. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Good. They’re too expensive these days, and I really don’t wanna buy one.”

Before long, you’re handing the grumpy man (now considerably less grumpy) his rectified projector and sending him on his way. As you both make your way back to the ship, Cassian asks, “What did he want you to do with it?”

“He just wanted me to upgrade it so he could watch porn.”

You both traipse into the ship snickering, and K2 spares you both a withering glance before he prepares the ship for take-off.


	4. The Alcoholic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for smut reaaaaaal soon

“We need to talk about Cassian.” Bodhi’s arms are folded against his chest and his expression is that of mock-seriousness.

You feign nonchalance and fold your arms right back. “What about Cassian?”

“F/N,” Bodhi starts to beam. “We know.”

“Know what?” You start to sweat a little in your high collared shirt. The days have only gotten more unbearable on Yavin; the air is pregnant with moisture, thick and oppressive heat beats down on the base day after day. You’ve taken to never leaving the cool dome of the command station, until that time every day that Cassian Andor spars shirtless with the new recruits. It is here that Bodhi has accosted you, as the sun is subsiding beyond the horizon, and the velvet of Cassian’s skin shines with a rosy hue. It’s all you can do to not drool sometimes.

“We all know about you and Cassian, so you guys can drop the act.” Bodhi ruffles your hair and you both sit down, watching Cassian demonstrate hand to hand combat with a particularly starry eyed young girl. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous at how effortlessly close he is to her.

“We’re not anything Bodhi.” You cast a sidelong glance at your friend. “Unfortunately.”

“Just a one-sided thing then?” He asks, looping an arm around your shoulders. “My condolences.”

“He’s just so far off you know?” You watch him intently, and catching your gaze, he lifts a hand in acknowledgement. Blushing, you wave back excitedly, and Bodhi scoffs.

“I can’t believe he hasn’t already noticed.”

You dig him in the ribs. “I, for one, am glad he hasn’t. In other news, guess what I got from Eriadu.”

Bodhi thinks for a second. “Bantha steak?”

“Why does everyone keep talking about bantha - you know what, I don't wanna know. Corellian wine. I told Cassian I had to find a bathroom and bought it from the bartender.”

“I take it you have plans tonight then?”

“I’m thinking you, me, Jyn, maybe Baze and Chirrut if they’re up to it, my room, drinks on me.”

Bodhi lifts an eyebrow. “Not inviting Cassian?”

“He doesn’t drink. Don’t ask me how I know.” You hold up a hand to quell the obvious query. “Just get the word out.”

 

It turned out Baze and Chirrut did indeed like the sound of some wine, as did Jyn, and as you pour her a third cup of the incredibly strong hooch, you note she holds her liquor very well. Better than you do, really. As the bottle starts to diminish, you exchange stories, and myths and you even decide to test run a career as a stand-up comic.

“Guys, guys,” you slur, laboriously getting to your feet and swaying over the small group gathered in your room. “I got one. Why do Twi’leks like to flip coins?”

You pause for comedic effect.

“So that they can say, ‘Heads or tails?’” You collapse with explosive snorts of laughter, grabbing on to the bedposts to keep yourself upright.

Collectively, they watch you, their own drunkenness nowhere near enough to cause them to laugh at such a terrible joke.

“What do Whiphids say when they kiss?” You giggle, “They say ‘ouch!’. Get it? Because they have horns?”

“Okay.” Bodhi staggers to his feet. “Enough with the jokes.”

“We should take her to the Captain.” Jyn suggests, slyly.

“So she can tell him all her jokes.” Baze agrees, serene as always and at this, Chirrut only laughs.

“Great idea.” You point at Jyn. “That is a great idea and we should go right now and say hello.”

Baze and Chirrut say goodbye, and the rest of you proceed in the direction of Cassian’s room in a drunken single file, trying not to laugh too loud. When the three of you get there, your rambunctious group stands in silence, trying to quell a serious case of the drunken giggles. Jyn grabs Bodhi by the arm, raps loudly on the door once, and yanks him into a run.

You’re not quite able to process exactly what has just occurred so all you can do is stand there and squint at their retreating figures, until your attention is drawn to an extremely bemused, vexed Cassian who also happens to be very shirtless.

“Why are you naked?” You ask him, reaching out to poke at his abdomen.

“Why are you drunk?” The irritation melts to give way to something resembling fondness as he ushers you inside.

“Because I drank.” You hiccup, sitting on the edge of his bed. Finding it too much of a struggle to fight gravity, you let your body collapse against his bed, accidentally whacking your head against the wall. “I wanna go for a walk.”

He pulls on a shirt, and easily picks you up, arm around your waist. “Let’s go.”

The night air is cool and sobering, and the wind has picked up, rustling through your hair.

You gaze fondly at Cassian. “You’re so nice to me.”

“Mm.”

“And you’re really cute.”

At this he looks at you with raised eyebrows and a quiet chuckle. “Is that so.”

“Is too.” You lean into his warmth and let his arms tighten around you. “Must be why I like you so much.”

“You’re very drunk.” He observes, hoisting you up against him, trying to stop you from slipping.

You ignore this. “Do you want to get lunch sometime? With me I mean.”

Cassian stops and looks down at you. “Like a date?”

You snort. “Yes, a date, what else did you think I meant?”

Cassian pauses in thought, and everything you have just said sinks to the back of your head. All of a sudden, you are stone cold sober.

What have you _done?_

“I think,” Cassian starts, “that you’re very drunk, and you should ask me again tomorrow. When you are…less intoxicated.”

“Is that a rejection?” You ask, fearful of the answer.

He looks at you properly this time, his chocolate coloured eyes warm and soft. “No. It isn’t.”

This time, you lace your fingers with his and walk, unhurried, your eyes drifting back to his every few seconds. He meets your gaze with a gentle quirk of his lips every time.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” He reaches over to brush hair out of your eyes and you nod. He’s being uncharacteristically shy and it is absolutely the most adorable thing ever.

“Careful, your team already thinks we’re dating.” You inform him, teasingly.

“I can see how they came to that conclusion.”

The sky is pitch black and the clouds have blocked out most of the stars. The rising gales whistle through the thick forestation, bringing with it the cloying scent of mud and grass. You take long, deep inhales, feeling it flush the inebriation from your system, clearing your mind.

Back at your room, Cassian slides off his boots as you stand around nervously. You’ve never been with another man like this before, and when you tell him so, he sets his boots aside and draws you to him. “That doesn’t matter.” He whispers into your neck, sending your heart aflutter. You’ve touched him before, but not like this – never like this. Every brush of his skin against yours feels like a static shock, the slide of his shirt against your arms and the _smell_ of him, muted and masculine, making you giddy.

You get under the sheets as he removes his shirt, watching from the safety of the covers. He climbs in with you, and you wriggle into his waiting arms, humming in satisfaction. “I’ve never felt this comfortable in my life.” You tell him, wrapping your arms around him as best you can.

“I have to say, Y/N, I would feel a lot more comfortable if you weren’t so warm, but this is very nice.”

You laugh and pull away a little to give him a bit of breathing room, settling your head in the crook of his neck.

“Does this mean you’ll go out with me?” You ask, hopefully.

“I think we are well past that point, Y/N.” Cassian angles his head down, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You eagerly respond as best you can but he pulls away too soon and you can’t help but grumble. “Do that again,” you demand. All he does is laugh and kiss your forehead.

“Go to sleep, _princesa_.”

Cassian is not a morning person. You find this out the hard way when you find yourself trapped in the circle of his arms, and your grumpy companion refuses to even open his eyes.

“I kind of need to get dressed.”

He doesn’t respond, only makes an unhappy noise and draws you in closer.

“Cassian, we both have stuff to do.”

He raises his tousled head at this, looks you dead in the eye and says, “No.”

“That isn’t helpful.” You manage to twist yourself out of his grasp and promptly fall out of bed. Lying on the floor, all you can hear is his laughter.

You stand up, lean over, and pinch him lightly on the arm. He jerks awake and scowls at you, jet black hair obscuring half his face.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m doing you a favour.” You pick up your things. “I’m going to shower.”

He groans and drags his hand over his face. “Alright, I’m up, I’m up.”

“The great Captain Andor,” you mutter, letting yourself out, “has trouble with mornings. He can face a whole Imperial fleet, but mornings? No. No way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end bit is very similar to how I asked my actual boyfriend out.
> 
> Yes, I was also drunk.


	5. The Message

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it was gonna be all fluff, but then I got an actual idea for a mission that wasn't complete shit so I thought I would give that a shot.
> 
> Sorry if it sucks. And thank you for reading!

It isn’t often that Mon Mothma summons you to her study, so when you receive word, you drop everything and get going right away. The message had sounded urgent, and your instinct proves to be right when you note the strained way the tall, imposing figure stands, hunched over what appears to be a hologram.

She stands and waves you in, switching the hologram on. You watch a familiar, stout figure spring to life, flickering slightly. Mon Mothma reaches over to pause it and gestures to the hologram. “We received this today in your stead, Y/N. From a courier, addressed to you.”

“I recognise him. Almach Novalast. He was a colleague where I used to work, but we were never close.” You frown. “What does he say?”

She plays the hologram and you watch, hands clammy with the anticipation.

“Please, Y/N L/N, if you’re hearing this: we need to talk. It’s about the Empire – about the…” he pauses and looks around furtively, “the _system_ we helped build. There’s an error, somewhere in the code, and I don’t know how to find it. Please, they’re…they’re threatening my kid L/N. I need your help. Meet me at Dakot Tech – it’s where I’m stationed – as soon as you can. I’ll keep an eye out. Just, _please_ , come. I…”

The hologram abruptly dies, but the desperation you heard in his crackling voice lingers in your mind. Your throat seizes up, raw fear clouding your vision.

“I think,” Mothma casts a worried eye at you, “it would be best if I called Captain Andor in to discuss this.”

Your mind is lost in a flurry of thought. If Almach was talking about what you think he was talking about, this could mean that you would be aiding the Empire by helping him fix it. But…his children were at stake. You dig the heel of your palm into your temple, trying to physically quell the chaos that was erupting in your head.

It is only when the door closes behind Cassian’s hurried footsteps that a thought strikes you. It’s tragic, depressing and sends a fresh wave of terror coursing through your blood, but you force yourself to address the idea rationally, knowing in your heart of hearts that it’s a high probability. More than 83% as K2 would say.

Cassian stands at attention nearby, and you only half hear Mothma’s explanation, too absorbed in Almach’s little monologue, mulling it over. There was something strange about what he’d said, and the more you tried to pinpoint it, the further it slipped through your tenuous grasp. Yet, your gut told you something felt _wrong_ about what he’d said, as if…he’d slipped up?

It comes to you suddenly, like a thread of lightning in a thunderstorm. You sigh, knowing it proves your suspicions beyond a doubt.

“It’s a trap.” Your voice sounds hollow, even to you and you take a deep breath before getting to your feet.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s trying to trap me…or us.” You expand: “I used to develop intelligence and defence systems for the Empire right? So, I’m…well, valuable to them. And having me on the side of the Rebels is an issue for them, so to speak. Almach must’ve squealed about my involvement; that’s the only way they could have known.”

“And they want you back.” Cassian’s voice is equally tense, his face drawn and weary.

Mon Mothma turns her attention to the window behind her desk. “How are you sure of this, L/N?”

“He said he was stationed at Dakot Tech. That’s an Imperial Technical outpost.” You explain, and realising that they still didn’t understand, continue, “The technology we developed was intelligence gathering, a custom order, for the Imperial Security Bureau. They have a serious rivalry, there’s no way they’d share technology like that, and if Almach was really working for them he’d be based at Coruscant. They’re just trying to throw us off by sending us to a small outpost – we’d be way more likely to go.”

“You’re sure that your colleague would betray you?” Cassian asks softly.

“For the sake of his child, yeah. I think so.”

“We cannot risk a potentially dangerous situation such as this.” Mon Mothma shakes her head regretfully. “I am truly sorry, F/N, but it isn’t possible.”

“Wait, Commander,” you plead, “what if I got captured on purpose? I could go alone. Try and convince Almach to come with us, and bring his son. We could protect them.”

Cassian turns to you, eyes fiery. “No, L/N. You will not sacrifice your life for a suicide mission.”

“They wouldn’t kill me. I’m useless to them dead. That gives me leverage, Cas – ” you clear your throat, “Captain. Please.”

Mon Mothma watches you, her thin mouth pressed together tight, the grooves in her pale face growing deeper. Her crystalline eyes seem to bore a hole through to your soul, but you keep your eyes on hers in a silent plea. She finally exhales and nods. “I appreciate your bravery L/N. If you are certain, then I will not hold you back. You may select a small crew for the journey.”

Cassian positively explodes. “Commander, this is madness.”

“Cassian, please.” You step towards him, dropping the act. “I need your help.”

“I don’t have to like it, L/N.” He spits. “What is your plan, exactly?”

“Get in, talk to Almach, grab him and his boy, and go.”

The furious look Cassian gives you would almost make you laugh, but under the circumstances, his gaze only makes you anxious.

“Commander.” He spins on his heel and vanishes through the door.

Mon Mothma stares at the empty space he had occupied only an instant before, and turns to you. “F/N, if you can indeed persuade Almach to abandon the Empire, the information he has could benefit us greatly.”

“I’ll keep a personal communications device hidden on me, and a tracking device. If…” you hesitate, “if I get into a compromising situation, I’ll use a suicide pill. They won’t get anything out of me.”


	6. The Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to change the ratings and the tags for this so...yeah. As promised.

He’s sitting on the bed, brooding sternly, when you enter your room that evening. He rises to his feet when you walk in, but doesn’t say a word. You’re too exhausted for words either, moving towards him to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck. Your fingers twist in the soft, slightly damp hair at his nape, and you draw in his scent. He stiffens momentarily but seems to give in and returns the hug.

“I have to say,” you mumble into his skin, “I’m not really sure what all this means.”

“I don’t want you to do this.” He strokes your hair and plants a kiss on the top of your head.

You pull away slightly, enough to look at his face. The sheer pain in his eyes rips the ground out below you, and you feel almost like you’re being crushed with the realisation that Cassian is scared to death of losing you.

“You know you’d do the same.” And he knows it’s the truth.

So instead of speaking, he slides his arms down and lifts you unceremoniously, setting you down on the bed. You watch him as he shifts to hover over you, and you lift a hand to cup his cheek, stroking your thumb over the ever-present stubble on his jaw. He covers your hand with his, and bends to kiss you so gently your heart hurts. Resting his forehead against yours, his eyes are heavy with the unspoken things resting in the space between your lips.

He returns his lips to yours, deeper and harder, tongues brushing and teeth clacking – like he’s kissing you with everything left in him. Your eyes slide shut, and you pull him closer, wanting to feel the length of his body wrapped in yours, until there is no you and no him, until you’re both lost in each other. Your open your eyes briefly, but there’s a tangible sorrow darkening his own and you’re so close to drowning in it, so you divert your attention to his body – choosing instead to slide your hands under the material of his shirt. Your hands feel hardened, lean muscle, and your fingers fan over his pectorals, probing patches of rough, scarred tissue.

He pulls away momentarily to pull off his shirt and toss it to the floor, and you drink in the sight, so close to you now, vulnerable and exposed. You understand implicitly, that he’s chosen to reveal all the ugliness of his past, written across his chest and stomach in the scars adorning them, but you can’t help but think of how utterly beautiful he looks in the meagre light. If he notices the wetness spilling over your cheeks, he says nothing, only lifts your shirt to lay kisses along the soft skin of your stomach.

His lips climb higher and higher, and your breath catches in your throat when his fingers brush the underside of your breasts. He pauses before pushing your shirt up past your chest, and you awkwardly rush to remove it, but the lip of the neck gets caught on your chin. This elicits a laugh from you both, but soon the problem is dealt with and he continues his ministrations, running his hands up your sides.

“Cassian.” His name forms on your lips in a small sigh and he lifts your hand to kiss your palm.

“ _Mi amor._ ” He drags his tongue across your navel, murmuring endearments into your skin. “ _Mi sol._ ”

Just like that, your clothes join his on the floor, and he kisses and bites at the skin of your breasts, flicking his tongue against the nubs and your back arches in response, your teeth digging into the skin of your knuckles to keep from crying out. You feel his long fingers trail along your pubic bone and down to your slit, and then he’s found your clit and warmth rushes to your groin. You stifle a groan as his fingers toy with your clit, gathering the wetness from your opening and sliding over the sensitive flesh. Cassian bends suddenly, and you gasp at the feeling of his tongue penetrating you, lapping between your folds and circling your clit. It’s almost too much to bear and the way he licks into you propels you over the edge.

Even through your orgasm, his mouth closes over your clit, gently sucking, and you’re almost surprised when his finger slides into you. You prop yourself up on your elbows, wanting to watch him; the heat in his answering gaze makes you shudder. The look in his eyes is clear and you nod your consent to him, sparks of desire sending tendrils of heat crawling up your thighs and chest. He pulls off his pants and you automatically reach to take him in hand, thrilled when he emits a soft moan. He’s leaking slightly, so you reposition yourself near him, darting out your tongue to swipe over the tip. Cassian’s hand gently pushes you away.

His voice is husky and rough. “Not this time, _mi alma._ I can’t…wait…much longer.”

His meaning isn’t lost on you so you smile indulgently at him and lean back. “I want this too.”

Cassian leans in and presses his lips to yours. You feel little fear or concern – your trust in him is absolute and you know he would never hurt you. He leans back a little, and your thighs part for him. You watch him position himself and your body coils in anticipation when you feel him brush your folds. You force yourself to relax, and Cassian takes your hand, murmuring sweet nothings to calm you. Then he’s pushing into you, little by little, and your body accepts him readily, as if you’ve been waiting for him your whole life. It’s almost spiritual, you think, dazed by the pleasure raging in the core of your being.

You circle your arms around his back, bringing him closer to you. Your bodies meld together and he makes love to you with reckless abandon. You feel both far away and too close all at once, feeling so connected and _real_ that you’re completely lost in the moment. Short as it is, it feels like a wonderful eternity.

You stay curled up in his arms for a long while after, trying to burn the image of his face into your retinas. Cassian just stares right back, his finger lazily tracing patterns on your bare shoulder.

“It’ll be okay.” You promise.

“I’ll protect you. No one will hurt you, F/N, not while I’m around.” His voice is firm, unwavering, and you latch on to the vow, grateful for the reassurance.

“Thank you, Cassian.”

“There is little I would not do to keep you safe, F/N.” Your chest squeezes at this, but you force a weak smile and burrow closer into him.

“I’ll get out alive.” You’re sure of it. More than anything, you just want to get back to him. Part of you almost regrets choosing to save Almach, but you’re positive that if you were to go on with your life as if nothing had happened, it would dig at you for the rest of your days. You would ever forgive yourself.

 

Bodhi and K are already waiting at the ship when you and Cassian make it to the hangar, and though none of them mention the fact that you’re walking in together, you’re well aware they’ve noticed. Cassian doesn’t seem to care that they’re watching either, matching your pace, staying close.

You stand in front of them, humbled by their show of support. “Thank you, both, for accompanying with me. You didn’t have to…and,” Bodhi closes the gap between you and gives you a tight hug.

“We wouldn’t let you do this without us, F/N.” He nods, tersely.

K2 simply says, “Cassian said I had to.”

Your laughter is a mite too hysterical, but the small group joins in anyway. Finally, K2 sits at the pilot seat, and Bodhi follows suit. Cassian guides you in, his palm hot against the small of your back. He drops a kiss on your temple.

Your stomach starts to knot, tears prick at the backs of your eyes and you blink them away. You’re really doing this. Your skin crawls with the growing trepidation, mouth feeling like it’s been filled with tar. You sit down to stop the room from collapsing in on you, but then Cassian is there, and your head is resting against his collarbone. His voice is calm, the anchor in the raging hurricane of your thoughts and emotions, bringing you to a standstill.

Bodhi’s words sound like they’re echoing in your head. “F/N, are you ready?”

You force your head to lift, and your own response feels like it’s coming from a thousand miles away.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You close your eyes, and all you can do is hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't originally intending for this to have much plot, but I felt that I wouldn't be keeping true to the universe without addressing the very real threat of the empire. So if this seems drastically changed tonally, it's meant to be very dissonant in that sense because it's been easy to ignore it up until now. I'm not entirely happy with the fact that the smut has to be in this extremely depressing scenario, and I promise the next one will be more um, chill? but it felt right so... thank you for reading! All your comments and kudos make my day :)


	7. The Escapist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an extra long one, just for you guys. Again thank you for the support fellas, it means a helluva lot!

You come to in a small, sterile room, devoid of all furniture, but for the uncomfortable metal chair you’re sitting in. Drowsy and disoriented, you blink down at your arms, noticing the shackles holding your arms in place. Your first instinct is to struggle, but you’re soon stopped short by the collar at your neck. Your mind is buzzing in panic, but then a small voice resounds in your ear.

“F/N? Are you awake?” It’s Bodhi, and the question brings you back to the present. Struggling to get a hold of yourself, you grunt, not wanting to answer him for fear there might be hidden onlookers, though the prospect seems unlikely. There are no blinking lights, and no mirror along the walls, so as far as you can tell, the room has not been fitted with any form of surveillance.

“Listen, we have your location, and we’re not far off. Just give us the signal when you’re ready to be picked up. We can hear your conversations and whatever’s happening around you at all times, so if you get in trouble, give us the distress alert.”

You’re well aware you’re in a difficult situation. You’d been creeping around the back of Dakot Tech alone; you’d had to shimmy down a ladder as there had been no way to land without drawing unwanted attention. From there you had made your way on foot to meet Almach. It couldn’t be helped that you weren’t trained in the art of sneaking, and you hadn’t even noticed the men in the smart, black uniforms circling you.

And all you have to show for your skill now is an aching lump on the back of your head where you’d been knocked out with the butt of a blaster.

Straining your ears, you identify the sound of footsteps as well as some kind of robotic clicking and whirring noise. The door slides open to reveal a short, portly fellow with a hovering orb next to him, which you immediately identify. Your eyes widen at the sight, alarm bells sounding off in your head, a potent mixture of unease and dismay sending your system into overdrive.

“IT-O.” You know your horrified whisper has reached Bodhi when he gulps audibly into your ear.

“Ah,” the interrogator smiles, “I see you know what this is then.”

“I should.” You straighten your spine, trying to look confident. “I helped develop it.”

This only widens his infuriating grin. “It certainly showcases your skill. This is a marvellous piece of work, truly wonderfully made.”

“F/N.” Cassian’s voice filters through, “Stay calm, _princesa_ , we’re going to get you out of there.”

You perk up at that, but realise that would mean putting your team at serious risk. It would be difficult enough for the entire squadron to get you out of here, let alone two men and a droid. You answer, forcefully. “No!”

You can tell from Cassian’s unintelligible muttering that he knows that’s aimed at him, but the man before you raises a trimmed eyebrow, and you tell him, “The damn thing is nothing close to marvellous. It’s just a war machine, nothing more.”

He seems to accept that and emits a guffaw like that’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard. “What a hilariously naïve thing to say, my dear.”

“I guess I really should have gone into comedy.” You’re just trying to distract him, but he doesn’t seem to be in much of a rush regardless.

“I suppose I don’t need to explain to you why the droid is here, then?” He winks at you, and you make an effort not to visibly recoil in disgust.

“You shouldn’t bother.”

“Hmm? And why’s that?” He struts over to you, chuckling.

“I’ll only talk to Almach Novalast.”

This seems to stun him slightly, but he recovers. “That’s impossible. The droid will suffice. I think you’ll find we won’t need to bargain much to get answers out of you.”

“Even with this droid, if I refuse to say anything, it’ll just kill me.” You reason. “Unfortunately, I’m of little use to you dead.”

“I highly doubt you’ll refuse to say anything, Miss L/N.”

You give him a long, hard look, and say, “Try me.”

That gives him pause, and relief floods your system when he relents.

“He will be sent in shortly. However, the droid will remain here.”

Fair enough. You could work with that. When Almach walks through the door, his pinched face, with the round spectacles, is red. You smile at him, kindly.

“I’m so sorry, F/N.” He hangs his head.

IT-O is fitted with a recording device, but it’s meant for playback, and does not transmit in real time. You’re certain of this, so when you speak, it’s only to give Almach urgent instructions.

“Almach, listen to me, we’re going to get through this, but I need you to do something. In the heel of my shoe, there’s a compartment containing a small device. Take it out, and when you press the button, it’ll release a large current. Use it to shock the droid. Do you understand?”

He gapes at you, and then drops to his knees desperately, fumbling at your shoes. It takes him a long minute, and you’re practically quaking with nerves, petrified at the thought of the interrogator coming back in.

“I’m so sorry, F/N,” he keeps saying, “but they had my son, and they threatened our lives. They got wind of you at Dantooine and when I heard, I knew it must be you, and I tried to send a hologram out to you, but they intercepted me and…”

“And they forced you to trap me instead. I know, Almach.” Your voice stays gentle, fearing the onset of a panic attack. “Relax, we have a plan. But you need to shock the droid first.”

“I…I can’t help you.” He hisses. “My life is on the line and they’ll find us! It’s impossible to escape the facility, we don’t even have a ship!”

“There’ll be a ship waiting, Almach, please! You need to help us, if anything for your son!”

His face clouds over with something unreadable, and he asks, quietly, “You can get us out?”

“Yes. I promise.” Your words seem to convince him, and he nods unhappily.

His trembling hands clasp the small device to his chest and he turns to IT-O. The robot is clearly in record mode, and doesn’t notice Almach’s slow movement towards it. You’re holding your breath as Almach stretches his hand out and suddenly there’s a burst of sparks, and the droid drops to the white floor, it’s circuits burnt. You both stare at each other, waiting for the telltale sign of rapid footsteps approaching the door, signalling the arrival of the garrison, but it never comes. The rush of relief makes your knees weak, and you sag with it.

“Cassian, Bodhi, we’re okay, but we need a way out.”

Bodhi comes on instantly. “You need to make your way down the corridor to the maintenance tunnel. You should be able to access it through some kind of elevator, but you’ll need a pass.”

“Alright, got it, maintenance tunnel. You’ll meet us outside?”

“We’ll be waiting there in 5 minutes.”

Almach hurries over and searches around the chair, finding a button on the underside that releases your restraints with a loud clank. You rub your newly freed wrists and neck, before turning to him.

“Where’s your son? We need to get him out of here.”

Almach meets your eyes with an unbearably pained look on his small face. “He’s already…They killed him when you didn’t show up right away. They thought…that you hadn’t taken the bait, that I’d somehow foiled their plans.” He presses a small hand to his eyes and sniffles.

“I’m so sorry.” Your apology sounds meaningless even to you, but there are other things at stake here. “Almach, believe me, I am so very sorry about your son, but the only thing you can do right now is try and save your own life. We need to get down into the maintenance tunnels. There’s a back exit at the end, but we need to use the elevator to get down there.”

He nods. “I have a pass that will get us in.”

“Good.” You clasp your hands behind your back and move towards the door. “I’m your prisoner, got it? Act confident.”

He looks even more nervous and you empathise, but there’s no time for that. He presses the button for the door and ushers you through to a thankfully empty corridor. You let your head drop, eyes flitting about to look for oncoming threats.

“The elevator is at the end of the corridor.” Almach murmurs in a low voice, and you both start to hurry. You can just about see the steel form a few feet away, and then there’s a shout from behind you.

“Halt!”

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you can feel Almach jump behind you. He spins you around with him, his fingers slippery with sweat.

A lone stormtrooper carrying a rifle jogs up. “State your business.” He addresses Almach directly, and you pray to whatever deity exists out there that he does not screw this up.

“Officer Castellan requested the prisoner to be brought down to the maintenance tunnel for execution.” Almach’s voice is shaky, and you’re sure you’re both absolutely busted when the stormtrooper pauses.

“Executions aren’t done at the maintenance tunnel, technician.” You watch as he reaches for his radio, knowing the moment he calls it in, you’re both done for.

You act on pure adrenaline, rushing the stormtrooper, grabbing his gun, and spinning to whack him in the head so hard, the poor man collapses to the floor, dead to the world. For a moment afterwards, you and Almach stare down at him, still shocked at what you had managed.

Breathing harshly, you grab Almach and sprint towards the elevator. It takes a moment to open, but when you do, you pull your companion in, and he quickly presses the button for the lowest floor.

“This will take us right to the mouth of the maintenance tunnel,” he confirms, so you position yourself at the back of the elevator, aiming for the doors with your new rifle.

It opens at the maintenance level on two black clad officers laughing mid chat, and without thinking, your finger clamps down on the trigger, the shot sending one of them to the floor. His friend looks at the body sprawled on the floor next to him, but before he can reach for the gun holstered at his hip, you’ve already fired at him.

Unable to even think about having just killed two men, and knocked out another, you start to run, and Almach leads the way. After those two, there are no more obstacles, and all that’s left is a straight path to freedom.

“F/N?” Cassian’s words are half obscured by static. “Did….hear gunshots….?”

“Cassian,” you yell breathlessly, clutching at a stitch forming in your side, “we’re almost there!”

“…already waiting…” And the rest of it succumbs to static, but you’re almost home free.

Almach seems just as unfit, and you can see him struggling in your peripherals, but then the tunnel door is blasted open, and you can see the ship just outside, waiting. Tears streak your dirty face, and you can barely even think about anything other than how much you want to be in that ship right now.

You urge Almach forward and then you’re running up the gangplank as the sound of gunfire rings through your ears. You push Almach in front of you, into the ship, just as you feel a sharp burst of pain at your side.

Cassian hurtles forward, and his arms are around you and the next thing you know, you’re barrelling into the safety of the ship in his warm embrace.

“We’re okay?” You ask, just to be sure.

“We’re okay.” He answers, so you decide to address the wetness blooming across your shirt.

“Huh.” You lift your shirt to peer at the wound, but you can’t see much with all the blood, oozing thick and dark from a small hole in your hip.

“K!” Cassian yells for the droid. “She’s been shot!”

“Have I?” You giggle. “Seems kind of small for a gunshot, don’t you think?”

“She also appears to be in shock, Cassian.” K2’s dry remark sends you into a further, excessively painful, fit of mirth.

“I’ll be fine.” You assure them, and then you pass out, for the second time in 24 hours.


	8. The Confession

An intense light filters through your eyelids as you slowly come back to consciousness. You’ve been fading in and out, memories of soft conversations and blurry figures muddled together in your head without any real timeline. There’s a throbbing pain at your side, and it takes you a minute to remember that you had been shot, but when you do, your eyes snap open. You struggle to lift yourself, still in a daze, noting the IV in your right arm. Your arms move sluggishly, as if rebelling against the instruction from your brain, but eventually you manage to get your fingers to lift the cloth of your shirt. You squint at the gauze, making out the spot of blood staining the white bandages. It is thankfully, much smaller than you thought.

“Ms L/N, glad to see you’re awake.” A young woman dressed in a navy outfit, one you recognise to be the medical officer uniform. “My name is Dr. Thio, I’m in charge of you today. How are you feeling?”

You’re still pretty drowsy and in mild pain, but otherwise you’re not feeling horrible so you tell her you’re not doing too bad.

“That’s good to hear. You’ve been out for a couple of hours. I take it you remember what happened to you?”

“Got shot.” You’re too exhausted to manage anything more than a couple of words.

“That’s right. You’re very lucky, you know, the shot only grazed your hip. Don’t get me wrong, it is still a bad wound, but your internal organs are completely fine and you should recover fairly quickly.” Dr. Thio smiles and pats your arm lightly, and you smile back, grateful for her help.

“Thank you.”

“Your colleagues have been waiting to see you, but I think you need a little more time to rest, considering the painkillers we’ve put you on. I don’t think we’ll need to increase the dose, but let us know if you’re in too much pain.”

You nod, and she walks out briskly. You sink your head back onto your pillow and pull the sheets up to your chest. Before you know it, you’ve slipped back into a blissful slumber. It’s already nightfall, when you awake, head clearer than it had been this morning. The only light in your room is from the dim lamp at your bedside, and as you reach over to increase the brightness, a shadow in the corner of your eye makes you jolt to attention, fearing the worst.

“It’s just me.” That sets you at ease once more, and you glare at the approaching figure.

“Cassian, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” you complain.

“It’s payback.” His face is worn and weary, making him look far older than he is. He pulls a hand through his hair, and kneels next to you, bringing his face close to yours.

“I’m fine.” You coo, letting your fingers play with his fringe, leaning in to kiss the furrow between his eyebrows.

“You got shot, F/N.” He captures your hand between his palms and drops his forehead to rest against your arm. “You were lucky – you could have…I could have _lost_ you. Your life was in danger, and I wasn’t there to keep you safe…”

“Hey,” you scold, gently, nuzzling your cheek against his hair, “that’s no way to think. I’m safe, and I probably won’t have to do anything like that again. You won’t lose me. I told you I’d come back alive, didn’t I?”

His words are crisp and fierce, and he looks up to fix his soulful eyes on yours. “I won’t let anything happen to you ever again.” The way he says it sends electricity surging through your limbs and you can’t help but smile at him, bashfully.

“I didn’t think you had such a protective streak.” You tease, but he doesn’t laugh, only squeezes your hand.

“Only for the ones I love.”

You don’t react to this admission the way you always dreamt you might. You’d often pictured standing at the temple ruins, professing your undying love in a beautifully worded speech. And most of all, you never thought Cassian would be the one to say it first.

“I love you too.” You tell him, fairly matter-of-fact in your delivery. It’s not a magical moment, it just _is_ and you would never want it to be anything else. Something shifts in your dynamic at that moment, and you feel more connected to him than ever before. You’ve never been particularly sensitive to the force, nor have you been completely receptive to it. It’s always been something ancient and archaic that people have talked about, without ever really understanding it. But in that shared moment with Cassian, you feel some form of it, as if it’s bonded you to him.

He presses closer, his nose brushing against yours, and your chin tilts to allow him access to your lips. His lips brush against yours, and it doesn’t take you long to respond in kind, wriggling closer to him. His strong arms hold you close, and you feel so safe and warm. He pulls away too quickly, and you both take a moment to calm your shallow breaths.

A thought rips through the fog of joy dulling your senses, and you ask, “Is Almach alright?”

Cassian nods, but the accompanying realisation causes your stomach to drop to your feet.

“Oh no,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to rub at your face.

He’s immediately alerted to your dismay, smoothing back your hair. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“It’s Almach – his son – they killed him. We were too _late_ Cassian.” You moan, “I was too damn late to save him. All because I had to prepare…I hadn’t thought…oh, Maker.”

“It is not your fault.” Cassian’s tone is hard and pointed, and you can sense his outrage. “It’s _them._ The Empire. This is what they do, and it is never your fault. F/N, you need to remember that. Whatever happens, whatever...whatever is lost, it is a result of what they have done, and nothing more.”

You know he’s right, but it does nothing to quell the bubbling regret coating your insides like cold slime. You reach out for the only thing you know, and grasp Cassian’s hand tight. “Don’t leave,” you whimper, wanting him close, needing him to anchor you to reality, otherwise, you were so sure you might just float away and be lost forever.

“I won’t.” And he doesn’t, curling up next to you, hands clasped around yours, until the morning light floods the little room.


	9. The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't let the chapter title fool you.
> 
> Warning for loads of angst ahead.

Cassian prowls around you for days after, never letting you out of his sight. He can’t seem to stop touching you either, and always has his hand on your waist, or his fingers laced with yours. You can’t help thinking he’s adorable like this, though it’s starting to get a little frustrating. He also has developed a habit of watching you with a goofy little half smile on his face when he thinks you aren’t looking. It’s a little confusing, especially since he’s always been fairly secretive about his feelings for you. Now, since Mon Mothma has ordered you to rest until your wound is completely healed, Cassian has taken up the role of your shadow, openly fussing over you. It’s a new side of his personality that appears to have befuddled not just you, but your team as well. It doesn’t help that K is acutely jealous.

When Cassian is assigned to rendezvous with another one of his Imperial contacts, it seems to be a fairly straightforward thing, though he boards his ship with a massive scowl on his face, while you wave goodbye with a sunny smile. It’s an immense relief to have him gone from your side for all of fifteen minutes until you start to miss him. It is however, nice, to get back to working on your pet projects with Bodhi. Machines, to you at least, are logical and fascinating, and after all the action you’ve had, it’s a welcome change.

Almach has been a fixture in your head ever since you’ve left the medbay. You’ve managed to catch a glimpse of him every now and again, leaving the canteen, or scuttling along the corridor, disappearing around the bend. You get the feeling he’s avoiding you, so around dinnertime, you wait for him to get back from his meal, right outside his door.

His face actually falls when he spies you leaning against the wall, and he slinks up with a pained look.

“Fancy seeing you here, Almach!” You greet him, jovially, but the thin little man hardly even cracks a smile.

“Good evening, F/N.” He croaks, passing a hand over his balding head. He looks so piteous, it’s almost pathetic.

“How have you been doing?” You ask, keeping your tone benign. He looks almost like a startled, wet rat.

“I’m fine.” He sighs. “It’s been…difficult to adjust…what with my son…”

You kick yourself mentally for your insensitivity. You didn’t know what it was like to lose a son, but you knew what it was like to lose the only family you had. It was rough. Some nights you hadn’t slept, and most days it was hard to get food to stay down. The only reason you’d continued was because you had work to busy yourself with and that was all that kept you sane.

Almach is the first to break the silence. “I want to say I’m grateful to you. You saved my life, and you’ve given me something to be a part of. And I know, one day, that will make some of what has happened, okay again. But…F/N, a part of me wishes I lay dead with my son on that damn planet…”

You don’t say anything, just place a firm hand on his shoulder. That’s all it takes to break him, and you look away when he begins to weep, unable to watch his agony. You stay there though, and when he finally wipes away the last of his tears, gives you a watery thanks, and walks into his room, the door shutting behind him. You stand in place for an unknowable length of time, but eventually, you too move on, starting the slow journey out to the hangars.

The trek up to the temple terrace is slightly easier this time, but the going is sloth-like. You have to take care not to tear open the stitches in your side, so you’re forced to take small steps, lifting yourself up little by little, taking care not to slip on the mossy slabs of stone. By the time you reach the top, the sun is long gone, replaced by the little pinprick-like stars. The cold, bracing wind rustles the thick vegetation, joining the orchestra of the jungle fauna. You lie back and close your eyes, basking in the serenity, and thinking about nothing in particular.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because you’re rudely awoken by a shuffling noise.

“Who’s there?” You call out, mildly concerned.

“I thought I would find you up here.” Cassian settles beside you, and you chuckle.

“You seem to be scaring me a lot these days. How did the mission go?”

“Just empty leads.” Cassian grumbles, “every idiot thinks he has something important to say, but most of the time it’s something we already know.”

“Do you ever wish you could just leave the rebellion?” Your question is clearly unexpected, but Cassian doesn’t take too long to answer, as if he had mulled it over himself.

“All the time.”

“So, why don’t you?”

“You know why. It’s the same reason you don’t.”

He’s right after all. You know why you stay with the rebellion – because it’s the good side, because it’s the right thing to do. And yet…

“Have you ever thought about retiring?”

Cassian scoffs, “I’ll only retire when the Empire is eradicated. Burnt to the ground.”

“But,” you’re unsure if you should continue, but Cassian has been honest with you and you want to return the favour, “what about us?”

It’s a weighted question, bogged down with all the worries you nurse about your future, all your feelings for Cassian and all the things you’ve dared to dream of when the nights grow quiet and your heart erupts with everything you tell yourself not to think about. Cassian is your partner, in everything, and you’re aware he knows this. It shows in the way he stills beside you and the way his voice cracks.

“I don’t know.” He admits.

“I’m sorry,” you say, softly, “I want to say that we’ll be okay, and that maybe someday we might be able to do all the things that normal people might do. Settle down, have a home – a family…but we won’t be able to, will we?”

“Whatever happens, I will stay with you.” His promise only makes your heart grow heavier.

“I don’t want you to tell me that.” Your outburst surprises even you, but you still remember the devastated, broken quality resident in Almach’s eyes and it pushes you onward. “I want you to promise me that one day, when we’ve done enough for the Rebellion, when there are more people out there, taking over the fight, when the time is right – we’ll leave here and build a house on a planet far away where no one talks about the Empire, or the Rebels or the war, and we’ll finally live our own lives. Not a life for the Rebels or for the sake of the universe – our life. Together.”

Cassian says nothing for a long time. You rarely feel uncomfortable when it’s quiet, but this brooding, miserable silence claws at your skin, and you can barely breathe.

Finally, he asks: “Will that make you happy?”

You think about it. A small, airy little house, with a garden. Lush, forested landscapes for miles around. A ship or two nearby, one without rebel insignia, and maybe one you built yourself from scavenged parts. Your very own workshop, filled with blueprints of droids and devices used for farming and anything other than war. Perhaps even a small child or two running about the house, knocking things over. An image sears itself into your brain: an older, but more relaxed Cassian, hair now streaked with grey, poring over a book, looking up to smile at you lovingly.

Your soul knows the answer before you tell him.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I wasn't sure how to continue from this. While it's all very good to have the reader come into themselves a little more, it also didn't feel right to end on fluff. I wasn't quite expecting this either, but it wrote itself, and I was content with this progression. The next chapter will be the last (not counting the epilogue), unless I decide to add some bonus chapters, and I know it sounds like kind of anticlimactic ending, my reasoning is this: After going through all of this, day in and day out, I am of the opinion that the characters deserve to live a little at the end. I mean, even Luke fucked off to live as a hermit right? (Following in Old Ben's footsteps, no doubt) However, I doubt they will be able to get themselves out of it completely, if you catch my drift.


	10. The Argument

The conversation at the temple ruins puts a strange sort of tension on your relationship with Cassian for days after. There’s an implicit consent between you two to not bring it up for the time being, considering the circumstances. Yavin 4 is bustling with activity, and there’s talk of Luke Skywalker being the new hero of the rebellion. You suppose there’s always someone to pin hopes on, and since what happened at Scarif, you suspect Cassian is more than relieved to give up the mantle to someone else. You stand firm on the belief that his work is what set the foundation of what Skywalker is doing now, but only the martyrs are remembered in this world.

There are constant requests for ship upgrades and repairs, notwithstanding your existing projects with the Rebel Alliance, and you take solace in the mundane work. Cassian too, seems to have his hands full with his own reconnaissance work – he’s always been fairly tight-lipped about his work, and you respect that. It doesn’t help that neither of you have had the spare time or the desire to talk. You’ve adopted the habit of coming back to your room and flopping onto your bed like a dead fish, and Cassian is rarely back before the wee hours of the morning. Though he’s careful not to rouse you upon his return, you always wake up when his cold feet slide under the covers to rest against yours.

You can tell from the way he breathes that he takes hours to fall asleep, despite the fact that you both have to wake up early the next morning to return, weary and sleep-deprived, to your duties. It isn’t often that work like this becomes a grind, but the truth of your exchange that night has sunken deep into you both. The often exciting, insane life has become hollow and meaningless to you. It seems that the war never changes, and though the Death Star has been blown up, Cassian confides to you that his contacts believe there will soon be another in the works.

It all comes to a head when Jyn disappears one night. She doesn’t show up to duty, and all that’s left in her absence is a small note explaining she no longer feels of use to the rebellion – and she wishes to fight in her own capacity, some other way. Almach seems more fulfilled in his position here. He’s taken up the role of technical advisor, similar to your own, drawing up plans to show Mon Mothma the security functions and systems of various Imperial outposts, which has further assisted in several raids since he’s been here.

You can’t help but get the feeling that you are no longer needed, and when Bodhi joins you at the tech lab, you tell him as much.

He just shrugs, “Isn’t that the way it is? We’ve done what we could for the Rebellion, and now others are doing exactly that. It just makes it easier on the rest of us – so we don’t spend our whole lives fighting.”

“Cassian seems to want to do just that.” You stare down at the worktable, and notice for the first time, that most of your designs are already complete.

“There’s always an end to everything, F/N.” Bodhi advises, sagely.

“When did you get so wise, Master Bodhi?” You joke, digging him in the ribs affectionately.

He crosses his eyes, claps his hands together and wiggles his eyebrows, “Jedi Master Bodhi, call me you can hrmmmm!”

You laugh, “You’re the worst!”

“Don’t forget to name your kid after me.” He shoots you a meaningful look.

You chuckle wistfully, and rest your head on his shoulder. “No way.”

“The dog?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“F/N, you know, I think I might be in love.”

You perk up at this, grinning at Bodhi, who has never once mentioned a romantic interest. “Who’s the lucky girl…or guy, if that’s your thing.”

“Dr. Thio.” He murmurs, face tinted red.

You whistle, and lean back. “Is it mutual?”

“I think so.” Bodhi coughs. “We’ve been thinking about getting married.”

“Wow.” You give him an open mouthed, nonplussed look. “That’s…wow.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of sudden, isn’t it?” His eyes become glazed, his grin wide. “But she likes it when I’m spontaneous.”

“Does that mean you’re leaving?”

He quirks an eyebrow in your general direction, probably still lost in his mushy thoughts about his leading lady. “We all have to at some point. Besides, I think…I’m sick of fighting.”

You nod. You know exactly how he feels.

 

Resolved, you march to Cassian’s ship as soon as the engines have shut off and the gangplank touches the ground. You’ve been waiting there for nearly an hour, impatiently tapping your foot. Walking up the gangplank, you yell, “Cassian Andor, we need to talk _right now_!”

You enter the ship to a dozen astonished recruits, and an equally taken aback Cassian. Only K is rather unfazed by your undignified entrance, remarking sarcastically, “Ah F/N, what a _wonderful_ surprise. Perhaps next time, you should consider being louder, I could barely hear you.”

You clear your throat and straighten your shirt. “ _Captain_ Andor. May I have a word please?” You glare at the recruits. “Alone.”

They practically fall over one another to clear out, and you try to hide your glee at their rush to obey your order. Only K remains, as if to show you that K2SO does not answer to the likes of _you_.

Cassian turns to him, “Go on, K.”

You swear that if the droid had proper eyes, they would have rolled up into the back of his head.

“Yes, _sir_.” K says, as sardonic as ever, clanking his metal butt off the ship.

You’re prepared to go on a tirade, but any such inclination vanishes at the sight of Cassian’s weary face. The bags under his eyes have deepened, as have the crevasses between his brows and along his cheeks, which look much sharper than usual. Even at this distance, he looks almost ill. You still can’t help but think he’s the most handsome man in the galaxy.

Closing the distance between you both, you cup his face in your hands. “Oh, Cassie.”

“It’s been a while since you called me that.”

“It’s been a while since we spoke at all.” You counter, cheerlessly.

“I just don’t know what to say anymore, F/N.” He says, gently pulling your hands away from his face. “You’ve made up your mind.”

You shake your head, throat constricting in panic. “No, I won’t leave you. But you must realise, the rebellion doesn’t need you the way it used to, Cassian.”

“I don’t know anything else, F/N.” He grinds out, irritably, breaking free of your grasp. He paces around the small space, circling like a caged animal. You’ve never seen him angry at you before, but your stubbornness won’t allow you to back down.

“I get it okay?” You grit out. “You joined when you were a child, and the Rebel Alliance is all you know. But that’s precisely the problem! How can you not see anything wrong with that?”

“Of course, there’s something wrong with that!” He snarls. “What makes you believe that after all the things I have _done_ that I can just leave and live another life?”

“I know you can! It won’t be easy, but you might even grow to like it. I just know it.”

He stalks up to you, cold rage turning his eyes black. He’s inches from you when he growls, “You don’t know anything about me.”

You can tell the moment he says it, that he regrets it, shame hunching his usually proud shoulders. You tell yourself not to let it hurt you – he said it in anger – and yet you can’t help the way your chest tightens. You don’t say anything, for fear you might just succumb to the sobs threatening to burst out of your throat. He turns his back on you.

It takes you a minute to gain control of yourself, and you advance towards him, hands shaking slightly. You’re not afraid of him; Cassian would never hurt you physically. You’re afraid of what he might say.

“Don’t shut me out.” You plead, softly.

His back tenses, but he turns back to you, eyes so full of sorrow, you can’t help but press your palm to his cheek in comfort.

“You might want to sit down.” He says, so you do.

Cassian tells you everything he remembers. His earliest memories as a child in his mother’s arms, the first time he held a gun, the first time he shot someone at the tender age of 15, the people he had tortured, the associates he had stabbed in the back to protect the rebellion. He slowly recounts all the terrible things he’s ever done, and when he’s finished, he looks as drained as you feel.

You do the only thing you know to do: you pull him into your arms and kiss his eyelids, his cheeks, his chin, wherever you can reach, and tell him how much you love him, how that will never change, how you miss him when he’s not around and think about him when he’s off on missions. How, if he was gone, it would rip a void inside you so large, nothing would ever fix you again. And Cassian just shakes in your arms, harsh, racking sobs spilling out of him.

Hours later, when he’s burned out, his head in your lap and your hands running through his silky hair, he says, “I’m so damn tired of this war.”

Something about it strikes you as funny, and you snort. “Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

This time he joins you, and the still air of the small ship is filled with the sounds of your tired laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it folks! Epilogue is up next. Thanks to everyone who's been following the fic :)


	11. The Afterword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this is so fluffy, and usually I live off angst but ok, I wanted a good ending so here it is

You mop at the sweat dotting your brow with your sleeve, and continue to pluck at the weeds growing around your little garden. The blumfruit are coming along nicely, and the little purple flowers in the pots lining the yard have just about started to bloom. You’ve been putting off maintaining the garden for a long time, but with all your newfound free time, it’s been one of your favourite pastimes.

It took much longer than you’d anticipated to actually get Cassian to leave Yavin IV. Months of planning and logistics had to be completed before he’d even consider moving. When he’d gone to see Mon Mothma, he’d told you that she had actually smiled when he’d brought up the idea of retiring from the Alliance. With her blessing, and her assistance, you’d eventually got together everything you needed to leave Yavin IV behind. Bodhi on the other hand, had rather quickly eloped with Dr. Thio, and had managed to run off ages before.

It’s been more than 3 years now, but you still feel a little antsy being by yourself in the large house. It’s 2 storeys tall, constructed in the style of the Old Empire buildings, with the sand-coloured pillars and domes. You love the airy openness and the courtyard is filled with flowers and ferns. Your home is miles from civilisation, surrounded by lush, emerald forests, with a small spring barely a few minutes’ walk away.

You’d made a list of all the greenest, most deserted planets you knew, and had managed to settle on Dandoran. It was beautiful and green, all the things you’d wanted – with an added side benefit. Something you’d taken full advantage of right from the start. Dandoran was home to one of the largest smuggling rings in the galaxy, and Cassian took to it like a fish to water. You were aware he’d never quite shrug off his skill, but it didn’t take him long to start an entire intel operation, getting items and information from spies and informants directly to the Rebel Alliance. He was what one could call, an independent contractor, and the Rebels paid him handsomely for it. He’d even managed to get some of the most notorious smugglers on the planet in on it with him, so he was away from home much less often.

The sound of a far-off jet engine captures your attention, and you straighten your back, hand shielding your eyes from the sun as you squint up at the sky. Your year old daughter gurgles delightedly in her chair behind you, and you turn to fuss over her, smoothing her fringe down and readjusting her pigtails. “Yes, yes, my little one.” You give her the kind of smile only a proud parent could have. “Dad’s home.”

You pull off your gardening gloves and pick her up, walking out of the courtyard to watch the ship land with ease.

“ _Mi reina_ ,” Cassian coos, holding out his arms, “I missed you, my little flower.”

Right. Little Aliya captured his heart the moment she was born, and she’s been his queen since day one. You roll your eyes, and hand him his daughter.

“I’ve got the plans for the vest they’ve been asking about. Are you planning on heading to the base later this week?” You ask, as K2 walks off the ship slowly.

“No, Pava is planning on going later this week, so I’ll hand it to him to take care of.”

You wink playfully at K. “How are you doing, rustbucket? Got any loose nuts to screw in today?”

“You may want to create some new insults, F/N. I have heard the term ‘rustbucket’ from you a total of 46 times this month alone.” K gives you _the look_ and ambles off to the workshop, where he spends most of his time.

He would never admit it, but he’s grown exceptionally close to you. He still doesn’t really listen to anyone but Cassian though. You pull out a shopping list from your back pocket to hand to your husband, but take a moment to watch him bounce Aliya against his chest, mouth curved in an open, happy smile. He hadn’t been that way at first. When he’d heard about Chirrut’s death, he’d gone quiet for months. He’d been adjusting to a sedentary life fairly well up until that point, little more than a year after you’d first set foot on Dandoran. You’d gotten the news via a hologram sent by Bodhi – Chirrut had been getting on in age, but he had been out on a mission and hadn’t been fast enough to avoid a grenade. According to Bodhi, Baze had taken his death badly, going on a rampage, and got seriously injured in the aftermath. You haven’t heard from Baze for years; he’d gotten better, and taken off, unseen, into the night.

After that, Cassian hadn’t been the same. He’d become reclusive and unresponsive, choosing to eat in privacy. You’d eat your meals alone in the dining hall, with only the crickets for company. You’d known he’d felt guilty – for having gotten out lucky, leaving his friends behind. At heart, he’d never stopped being their captain, and in turn it had made you feel like a villain, for taking him away. A month after hearing the news, you’d started to throw up violently each morning, crave odd combinations of food, and crying at the most ridiculous things. You’d been secretive about the changes within you, worried about what Cassian might say, terrified that your marriage was at stake.

One morning he’d caught you alternating between heaving into the toilet and sobbing against the cold ceramic. He’d knelt down beside you, pulled your hair back from your tear-swollen face, and rubbed your back while you puked. That had been the first time he’d voluntarily touched you in a month.

“F/N?” He’d asked, “are you pregnant?”

When you’d nodded, he’d kissed your gross, sweaty forehead, and apologized over and over. And when you’d asked why he was crying, he’d told you he was just happy. That was the second time you’d ever seen your husband cry. The third time was at Aliya’s birth, at which point you’d exclaimed, exasperated, “I never knew you were such a crybaby!”

He’d become markedly different the second his little queen had come into the world, bawling her eyes out. Admittedly, she was one cute kid, but you hadn’t expected her to be such a little charmer. She can’t even talk and yet she’s already got her smitten father wrapped around her little finger. The number of toys Cassian buys or makes for her is getting out of hand, and he’d spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get her to say ‘papa’ first. He’d succeeded, unfortunately.

Aliya babbles at him, moving her chubby little arms around, resting one of her pudgy hands in Cassian’s hair, yanking on a lock of it. He winces but laughs as if he understands her incomprehensible baby speak. You may absolutely adore your daughter, but to Cassian, she’s the love of his life, placing you firmly in second place. He’s already started speaking to her in Spanish, and you can already imagine the hijinks they’re going to get up to together when she’s older. Just the thought of it wears you out, and you groan slightly.

Aliya yawns, nestling close to her father and you remind him, “I think it’s naptime for her, Cass.”

“Pa!” Aliya announces in agreement, and you watch as Cassian moves into the shade of the house to put her down in her crib. You stretch and turn your face up to the sun, relishing the warmth on your skin.

Minutes later, tanned, lean arms circle your waist, and you feel teeth lightly graze the curve of your ear. Cassian has not lost his ability to surprise you, and you lift a hand to his cheek, leaning into his embrace.

“I was almost worried you’d forgotten about me,” you taunt, facing him.

He holds you close, his nose brushing yours. The years of familiarity have no doubt put a damper on the romantic aspect of your relationship, but Cassian still manages to make you feel the way you did that first night at the temple ruins. Your body still thrills at his touch, and the comforts and joys of a home life had lightened him considerably, making him even more gorgeous than before.

“You have no need to be jealous, F/N,” he chuckles fondly, “Aliya may be my queen, but you’re my sun.”

“Oh, shut up.” You tell him, and he laughs, deep and vibrant. A new kind of genuinely happy laugh you’re still getting used to, and still love to hear.

He dips his head to nuzzle at your neck, biting and laying wet, open mouthed kisses on the skin there.

“The baby’s sleeping!” You scold half-heartedly, already succumbing to the way he licks at your collarbone.

“We’ll be quick.” He promises, and his fingers worm their way into your pants, rubbing at your clit. You gasp and dig your fingers into his shoulder, his tongue flicking at your earlobe. Your body responds to him eagerly, and he’s already able to slip his finger inside you, probing and stroking, just where you like it best.

You bite down on a groan, and he grins at you wolfishly, leaning in to nip and suck on your lips. His free hand slides under your shirt, finding bare flesh, fingers dragging over your sensitive nipples. He removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you aching, only to pull you down with him to the dirt. You both pause to kick aside clothes and undress just enough, before you position yourself above him. He licks his lips, eyes dilated almost black, watching you sink down onto his length.

You fuck in the courtyard as if you’re both young and recklessly in love, and you can’t help but think about how lucky you are. This isn’t a perfect life, far from it. Cassian still says things that upset you from time to time, and caring for a toddler isn’t easy either. The house plumbing needs fixing and sometimes Cassian puts himself in danger. Living is still difficult, but at least now, you’re living _your_ life, a life that belongs to you, and only you. And that’s the only thing either of you had ever wanted.

Your thoughts are pushed away by the sudden wailing coming from the baby’s room. You both freeze, hoping the screams will fade, but they only grow stronger.

So, you lean forward and kiss Cassian softly, tell him you love him and that it’s his turn with Aliya today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading. I'm sorry to end it, I had fun writing down all my daydreams and some part of me wants to start a new one already haha :,)
> 
> Also felt I had to include a bit of happier smut because the last one was tragic


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